


Misery

by ClareMcFearless



Category: The Maine
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-03 20:54:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 12,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClareMcFearless/pseuds/ClareMcFearless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassie Forrester has been sent on a near mission impossible for Alternative Press Magazine...following The Maine for a whole week in the lead-up to the release of their third album, 'Pioneer'.</p><p>Normally this would be amazing, but there's one thing that's bugging her. </p><p>John O'Callaghan.</p><p>John was the one who made her High School years a living hell.</p><p>And now that he's back in the picture, can Cass keep her cool for the sake of her career?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Cassie Forrester.”  
 _“Cass? It’s Jeremy.”_   
I groan a little as I continue my brisk walk from Starbucks back to my house.   
_“I heard that, smartass.”_   
“Sorry, Jer. What’s up?”   
I toss my empty coffee cup into a trashcan on the sidewalk and bound up the front stairs to the duplex I shared with my best friend.   
_“I’ve got your new assignment here, if you’re interested.”_   
I sigh, rather extravagantly. “I was just at the office, dude! Where was my memo?”  
Jeremy laughs through the phone. _“You’re hilarious, Cass. We don’t do fucking memos around here.”_   
I roll my eyes and hold my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I fumble around in my purse for my keys.   
“What’s the deal?” I hear Jeremy sigh through the phone, and I already know it’s bad.   
“Jeremy...?” I add, dragging his name out as I finally find my keys and unlock the front door, leaving the keys in the lock and grabbing my phone again.   
_“You, my dear...get to follow The Maine around for a week.”_   
I stop dead in my tracks just inside the door. “Jeremy...” I hiss through gritted teeth.   
_“I know, I know...but you’re gonna have to suck it up, Princess. Nobody else is free.”_   
I sigh myself and turn around to shut the door and pull my key out of the lock.   
“Cool. So I’m a last resort.”   
_“You know what I mean.”_   
I resign myself to my fate, and I slip upstairs to my room, sitting down on the edge of the unmade bed.   
“So what’s the go?” I ask monotonously.   
_“You head to Phoenix on Monday. John will pick you up from the airport.”_  
I feel my insides go cold. “I’m gonna be living with them?!” I spit.   
_“Fuck no! You’re getting a hotel...the van is just for transport. And where you’ll hang out when you’re not sleeping or doing the travelling.”_   
“Ugh. What’s the story then?”   
Jeremy sighs again. I must frustrate him to no end, and yet he keeps me around.   
_“It’s a five-day buildup to the release of their new record, Pioneer. You’ve got a secret fan event, a day in the studio, a day off, then a photo shoot...and the record release show.”_   
I groan and flop backwards onto the bed. “You’re killing me here, Jeremy...”   
_“Cassie...for fuck’s sake. You can deal with John for a week. Just focus on the writing.”_  
I groan again, this time louder and with more flailing of my lower extremities.   
_“I’ll email you the itinerary. Later.”_ My phone goes dead and I let my arms go limp.

Well, this is just fucking fantastic.


	2. Chapter 2

I drag my feet as I walk out of the domestic terminal of Phoenix Airport.   
I’m lugging my suitcase behind me, and I was sure I could summon the strength to pick it up and hit someone with it if something untoward happens.  
And I was pretty sure it would, considering who I was dealing with here.  
Let’s get some basic shit out of the way first.  
My name is Cassie, obviously. I’m 23, and I work for Alternative Press magazine.   
I moved to Cleveland after I graduated high school, with my parents and my best friend Harry, and I talked my way into a very low-paying, degrading job that mostly involved me running around making coffee and making photocopies.  
I worked my way up while I was at College, studying journalism.  
I’ve been there five years, and I’m now a junior feature writer. And if I ever have to leave AP, I’d probably jump off a bridge onto the highway. I absolutely love it.  
But now I have more pressing matters.  
John O’Callaghan, mostly.  
I actually grew up in Tempe, Arizona...and I went to High School with John.  
John, the jerk.   
John, the guy who made me want to move as far away from Arizona as possible, but at the same time, all I wanted at High School was to be friends with him, hang out with him, get to know him better.  
And now I get to spend a week with him and the rest of the band, who I hadn’t met before. I’m sure they were nice enough guys, judging by the articles my colleagues had written, but I had to judge that for myself.  
So there I was, standing outside the Terminal in the uncomfortable heat.  
It’s almost December, for crying out loud. It’s like I’m in Australia or some hell hole like that.  
And before I have a chance to start texting my roommate/best friend Harry complaining about how much I hate my life, I see the vehicle of doom pull up in front of me.  
Jesus Christ.  
It’s a white van, basic as any other on the road, only it was covered in graffiti and stickers of The Maine’s logo, a large ‘M’ inside a circle.  
Very inconspicuous.  
I sigh and head over to it, and just as I’m about to reach out and knock on the door, it flies open and I retract my arm as quick as I can manage.  
“Well, well...Mama Cass!”  
John’s standing in front of me on the bottom step leading into the behemoth, and I make a face as my dreaded High School nickname rears its ugly head again.  
He looks totally different from the guy I used to know.  
He’s tattooed now, and his hair is shorter than I remember, but he still seems to be the stick figured jerk I had to deal with when I was sixteen. He still had those huge hazel eyes that made you feel like he had X-Ray vision, and that damn cheeky smile hadn’t changed either.  
“Nice to see you too, asshole.” I snap.  
Now it’s his turn to make a face.  
“Ouch.”  
I roll my eyes and watch him as he looks me up and down, like I’m a statue in a museum or something.  
“Wow.” he says.  
I grimace and try to look away from his weird stare.  
“What?” I ask, continuing the stimulating, monosyllabic conversation we were having.  
“You got hot, Cass.”  
He steps out and holds up a small set of keys in front of him, jingling them loudly. He stares at me a bit and narrows his eyes.  
“Back keys?” I ask, ignoring his quip.  
He just smirks and nods.   
I snatch the keys from his hand, flash him a sarcastic smile back and step over to the back of the van, unlocking the door with the key and shoving my suitcase into the van (everything I needed to get my article started was in my portable office, also known as my purse).  
I slam it shut and walk back over to the door, where John’s leaning on the frame, his arms crossed and his face smiling.  
“What?” I ask.  
He shrugs and just keeps smiling.  
“Good to have you on board, Ma-”  
I groan loudly and point a finger at him.  
“I swear to god, John...if this ‘Mama Cass’ thing keeps going...”  
He interrupts me, laughing.  
“Relax, Cassie. I love The Mamas and The Papas.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Day 1 - “Didn’t know you smoked.”**

My journey to the Pioneer release show starts a little differently than most publicity tours.  
I’m currently standing in the empty Marquee Theater, where hundreds of The Maine’s most faithful followers are scattered around. There’s no security guards. No barrier to separate the stage from the floor. No instruments, amps, lights or other gear to be seen.   
Just four chairs sitting on the stage, awaiting their pop-punk saviour occupants.  
And as I look around, I notice that not a soul in this room cares that they won’t be seeing a full set.   
All they want to do is talk to their heroes...tell them their stories and how much the music they make has impacted their lives.  
It’s refreshing...and the guests of honor have no idea it’s happening.

I switch my voice recorder off and cringe to myself. I know I should be praising the creativity of The Maine’s fans, but if I gathered a bunch of them in a corner and recalled all the stupid memories of John being a total pig, I’m pretty sure they’d just call me a hack.   
The rest of the band were absolute sweethearts. They all had great senses of humour, and I was finding it hard to find anything to criticise.  
John, of course, had managed to tell every embarrassing story about our formative years that I could remember. That alone made me want to punch him in the throat, but the guys didn’t seem to judge.  
At one point, Kennedy, the guitarist, slumped his arm across my shoulders and told me that I should have kicked him in the balls when I had the chance.   
I resisted the urge to tell him that I should have moved schools when I had the chance, but I figured I’d already used up my bitch quota for the day after calling John an asshole five seconds into our reunion.  
I checked my watch, and concluded that I had about ten minutes to sweep around the room and get some comments from the faithful before the band were due to arrive (I had to tell them that I had to get there early, seeing as it was a press event...and then I reminded John that I’m a member of the press, and he just replied with a joke about pressing HIS member somewhere. I punched him in the arm and left the van in a huff).  
So I started to wander around, mostly approaching people who weren’t in large groups.  
I’ve mastered my journalistic intro speeches so perfectly, it just rolls off my tongue now.  
“Hi there, I’m Cassie from Alternative Press, how are you?” I ask about ten people, getting their first names and ages and asking random questions on how the event came about and what they were planning to tell the band. It ranged from things like ‘The Maine saved my life’ and ‘Their music is the only thing I can rely on anymore’ to ‘I’m just here with my girlfriend...she keeps telling me she’s gonna leave me for that John guy’.  
I was just finishing up interviewing a very excited girl with multiple facial piercings and flame-red hair before I’m tapped on the shoulder by Tim, The Maine’s manager, and Drummer Pat’s brother.  
“They’re here, Cass...can you bring ‘em up to the stage and introduce them?”  
I stare at Tim for a second, wide-eyed.  
“Why me?!” I yell.  
“Because you’re press...and the guys think this is a press event, genius...” Tim replies.  
Damnit. Makes sense, I guess.  
I thank the redhead and slip out the back, and saunter up to the van, where I find John, leaning against it and smoking.  
“Didn’t know you smoked.” I say sharply.  
“Didn’t know you’d still be a brat.” John snaps back.  
I roll my eyes.   
You could say what you wanted about John, but damn...he’s quick.  
“We’re ready for you now.” I say, crossing my arms.  
John smirks and drops his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out with his boots.  
“Thanks, Doll.” He says, walking past me and winking.   
Crap. Can’t let him go in first.  
I quickly step in front of him, my arms still crossed.  
“What?” He asks.  
“We need to wait for the others.” I say professionally.  
“Come on, fellas! Party time!” he yells, not taking his eyes off me.  
I stand my ground, even though John’s body is less than a foot away from me. I’m only mildly uncomfortable, but I wasn’t about to let him know that.   
Pat, Jared, Garrett and Ken all file out of the bus and stop next to and behind John, their expressions turning from excited to confused.  
“What’s going on here?” Gare asks.  
“Staring contest.” John says quickly.   
I roll my eyes and start heading back into the venue, the boys presumably behind me.  
As I reached the side of the stage, I turn around to face the guys again, who by now are so confused that they’re all silent.  
“Do me a favour and stay here until you’re called?” I ask sweetly. They all nod, even John.   
I sigh and force a huge smile before strutting out onto the stage, the crowd all sitting down and waiting now, cheering and clapping.  
I wait for them to quieten down, and I clear my throat nervously.  
“Hi, everyone...I’m Cassie Forrester from AP Magazine...”  
I pause, a small round of applause and cheering coming from the crowd.  
“...and, uh...Thank you all for coming out today. I’ve spoken to a few of you already about how you’re feeling, and I’ll be around after we finish if you have anything else you’d like to contribute to my Article.”  
I look over at the guys, who are all standing perfectly still with their jaws agape.  
I chuckle a little to myself, and I turn back to the huddled masses.  
“Alright...I’ll stop embarrassing myself now and bring out who you actually want to see. Ladies and Gentlemen...The Maine!”  
I look back to the band, and they all step out onto the stage amid high-pitched squealing and applause.  
John comes out first, his hand clamped to his face. Jared’s clapping along with the audience, and laughing his head off. Ken and Gare are just grinning to themselves, and Pat throws up the horns.  
I quickly duck out of the way and slip to the side of the stage, where I sit down on the dusty floor, crossing my legs and pulling my voice recorder and notebook out.  
This should be interesting.


	4. Chapter 4

Later that night, after half the fans in the Marquee Theatre had spilled their guts about how much they loved the guys, and after they had moved their chairs down from the stage and into the gap where the security and photographers usually inhabit and hugged every single person who spoke to them, we were all hanging out at the bar of my hotel.  
The guys all had their own homes to go to, and they weren’t really in the mood for bar hopping, so I reluctantly invited them back to the hotel for a few beers and maybe some fodder for my article.  
“So, Cass...” Gare pipes up after polishing off his third beer, “...I know it’s a touchy subject, but what the hell is ‘Mama Cass’ supposed to mean?”  
Oh, good. I was hoping this would come up.  
I look over at John, who’s silently convulsing with laughter. I just roll my eyes at him and smile at Gare, figuring it was as good a time as any to get it over with.  
“On my first day of High School, I, uh...had a bit of a disaster.” I started. John just sipped his scotch and thankfully kept his mouth shut.  
“I spilled my breakfast on the shirt I was gonna wear, so I had to borrow an old shirt from my Dad.”  
Gare winced, and Jared just chuckled...he must know what I’m about to say.  
“Let me guess...” Pat says with a smile, “Mamas and the Papas?”  
I just nod, blushing.  
“And I wasn’t exactly a size zero when I started, either. So yeah...fat girl wearing a Mamas and Papas shirt...”  
“Mama Cass.” John said quietly.  
Gare sits a hand on my shoulder again, and just nods.  
“Well, if it makes you feel any better...they had some damn good songs.”  
“That’s what I have to keep telling myself.”  
“Didn’t she choke to death on a sandwich?” Kennedy asks.  
I laugh and nod.   
“So I imagine sandwich jokes are out of the question too?” John pipes up.  
I smile at him for the first time, and nod. “About right, yeah.”  
Jared’s still laughing his head off.  
John takes a quick, deep breath and shoots down the rest of his whiskey, winces and slams the glass down on the table in front of me.  
“Another round!” he says. The boys just groan.  
“Ohh, no...I’m on the verge of sleeping for a month already.” Pat whines, pushing his hair out of his face.  
“Come on, guys...all we have to do tomorrow is fuck around in the office with the mixers! One more...please?” John pleads, glancing over at me, like he needs my approval.  
I just shrug.  
“Hey, I’m not buying it...” I say kinda defensively, holding my hands up in front of me and leaning back in my chair.  
John rolls his eyes and starts digging through his wallet.  
“Damnit. I’m dry.”  
“Oh, thank god.” Gare says quickly.  
I chuckle to myself and lean down to grab my purse, and the boys all get up, save for John.  
“Oh, come on!” He says with a smirk.  
“Let’s go, Johno...” Jared says, nodding towards the exit.  
John reluctantly gets up and stares at me.  
“You guys go ahead...I’m gonna walk Cass up to her room. I’ll get a cab.”  
I pull a face, and the guys just nod knowingly to each other and start to make their retreats.  
“See you tomorrow, Cass!” Ken calls without turning around.  
I’m just about to reply, when John’s arm snakes around my waist and we start walking toward the lobby, and I have no idea what’s going on.


	5. Chapter 5

I stay perfectly silent and totally confused the whole way up in the elevator, John’s fingers digging into my side.  
I lick my lips and guide him down the hallway to my room, and he finally lets me go as I fish around in my purse for the card key.  
“Are you OK?” He asks quietly.  
“Uhh, yeah. Just trying to get into my room.” I reply stupidly.  
He chuckles as I open the door, pushing past me to get in first.  
“What’re you doing?” I ask.  
“Raiding the minbar, Mama Cass!” He says, looking around the room for the telltale mini fridge, and clapping his hands once he found it.  
I dump my purse on the nightstand and sit down on the end of the bed, watching. Part of me wanted to call security and have him thrown out of the hotel for being drunk, but the other niggling part of me just wanted to fall asleep and wake up with him next to me.  
That was probably the other thing I didn’t mention.   
I had the biggest crush on him while we were at school. That’s probably the main reason I hated him so much. I barely spoke to him except when he was alone, he had this horrible nickname spreading around the school, and all I wanted to do was hang out with him. I guess he had some kind of reputation to uphold, and couldn’t be seen with the overweight girl who spent all her time with a gay guy (Harry, the aforementioned roommate) and actually studied.  
He closed the door to the fridge and came over to sit beside me, handing me a tiny bottle of Vodka.  
“What’s this for?” I ask, shaking it a little.  
“Compensation, my friend.” he said, his words a tiny bit slurred.  
“For...?”  
He looked up at me, with a sincere smile on his stupidly good looking face.  
“High School, basically.”  
It took all my self control not to lean over and kiss him right that second, but oh no...Cassie the Bitch hadn’t reared her ugly head in a while, and the beer-soaked part of my brain figured now was a good time.  
“I think you’d have to buy me a swimming pool full of Vodka to make up for High School.” I said.  
John smirked at me again, and stopped fidgeting with the equally tiny bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand.  
He reached up and brushed a section of my hair out of my face and behind my ear, and I felt myself blush.   
“It’s a start, I guess.” I added, unscrewing the lid from the Vodka. John’s hand was now sitting on the side of my neck, sending weird tingles down my whole body.  
I necked the bottle, the cold liquid searing my throat. I screwed my face up and stuck my tongue out, repulsed.  
That’s why I always drink the stuff with OJ. Fuck.  
“That’s my girl!” John says with a laugh, taking his hand off my neck and giving his Whiskey the same treatment.  
“Ugh.” He said, finishing it and mirroring my expression.   
“Yup.” I added.  
John got up from the bed and went over to the TV, turning it on and flicking through the channels until he found a music channel of some description.   
He then came back over to the bed and flopped down on it face first, groaning.  
“Fuck, this thing is comfortable.” he mumbles.  
I just sigh and get up, digging my hands into the front pockets of my jeans.  
“You stay there and go to sleep then...I’ll crash on the couch.”  
John rolls over faster than I’ve seen any human move, before scooching down to the end of the bed, grabbing my wrist and pulling me down onto it.  
“Nuh-uh. Sleep. Want cuddles.” he mumbled again, wriggling back down so his head was on the pillow and kicking the covers off, still holding my wrist.  
“God, you are drunk.” I say quietly, not bothering to take my jeans off or anything like that before squirming down into the covers too.  
“Shh. Sleep.” John says, now motionless. He lets go of my wrist and drapes his arm across my waist, moving a little closer to me.  
Well, that escalated quickly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Day 2 - “Time heals all wounds, Mama Cass.”**

When I woke up the next morning, I rolled over to find John still passed out in his clothes, his mouth open and drooling on my pillow.  
Charming.  
I ran a hand through my hair and checked my phone. My stomach then plummeted through the floor when I realised that we had to be at the Studio at the 8123 office in about half an hour.  
Half an hour, and I had the frontman passed out in my hotel room.  
I sat up and started gently shaking John by the shoulder.  
He screwed his face up and groaned.  
“Fuck off, Garrett...” He mumbled. I just sighed and shook him harder.  
“Jesus!” He finally said properly, attempting to swat my hand away.  
“John, for fuck’s sake...get up.” I say through gritted teeth.  
His eyes opened in a heartbeat, and he sat up, squinting and rubbing his jaw.  
“Ohh, god...” he said quietly.  
“Relax, you’re still wearing your pants.” I said a little harshly. I know the last thing High School John would have wanted was a rumour starting about sleeping with me.  
He got out of the bed and rushed straight into the bathroom, yanking his shirt over his head and running the faucet, dropping the shirt into the sink.  
I felt a little flutter in my stomach when I saw that body in real life. I mean, I was right...he was still scrawny and needed a sandwich, but he was definitely more toned now, and the tattoos decorating his skin certainly upped the sex appeal.  
I quickly shook my head and looked away, convinced that I’d been staring.  
“What are you doing?” I asked.  
“Rinsing my shirt, Mama Cass...” He started while I looked back again, genuinely curious.  
“It’s gonna be hot as balls out there, and I probably stink.”  
He wrung out the shirt into the sink, and watching the muscles in his arms flex gave me that weird flutter again. He unravelled it and attempted to put it back on, wincing audibly as the cold, wet fabric hit his skin.  
He ran a hand through his hair and came back out to where I was still sitting in bed, leaning over and kissing me quickly on the cheek.  
“Thanks for letting me crash. ‘Preciate it.”  
He winked at me and turned around, and just like that, he was gone. Like a tornado of muddled emotions and weird body heat issues.  
The second the door to my room shut, I was out of bed and fleeing into the bathroom for the quickest shower I think I’ve ever had.  
After that, I threw my hair up into the world’s worst bun, changed into my denim shorts, an old Joy Division Tee I stole from Harry and my chucks, grabbed my purse and bolted from the hotel like it was on fire.  
I catch a cab out to the studio, and before I know it, I’m walking up to the front doors, only to be met by John, out the front and smoking again.  
“Jeez, Cass...” he says, taking a drag on his smoke, “Is this what you look like when you have less than half an hour to get ready?”  
I grimace and look him up and down.  
“Says the guy wearing a wet t-shirt and the same jeans he slept in.”  
John raises his eyebrows.  
“Wow. That was me actually being nice, but...way to shut me down.”  
He winked and dropped his cigarette to the ground, letting it keep burning. I just sighed and stomped it out myself before I went inside.  
The studio, located at the office of 8123, Tim’s management/merch company, air conditioned and very neat, was a sight for sore eyes to me. I’d been to a few in my travels, but this one was different. It was homey, yet professional and organised.  
I followed John through the halls and into a room labelled ‘C’, fidgeting with the strap on my bag.  
It was a huge, open room, with The Maine’s gear scattered all around the studio space. I could almost see straight into the control room thanks to the slightly ajar door, and I assumed the rest of the band were already accounted for. John just strolled through the studio like it was his kitchen, and held the door to the control room open for me. I’m pretty sure I blushed, but I’m choosing to ignore that right now.  
I stand awkwardly in the corner as John comes in and takes a seat at the mixing desk next to Jared and a skinny guy with dark, spiked up hair and a full sleeve of tattoos on his left arm.  
“Colby, this is Mama Cass from AP.” John says quickly without looking over his shoulder.  
I just roll my eyes and smile at Colby, whose role in the process I’m not entirely certain of.  
He swivels around in his chair and scoots over to me, holding a hand out.  
“Colby Wedgeworth. Producer, Mixer, Engineer, etcetera.” He smiles and winks.  
I shake his hand and force a smile right back. “Cassie Forrester. Journalist...uh...etcetera.”  
Colby chuckles and lets go of my hand, sliding back over next to John in his chair.  
I sigh and retreat into the back of the room, flopping down in an armchair and rummaging through my purse and pulling my notebook out.  
Pat and Garrett were sitting on a worn-out looking sofa beside me, and Ken was sitting up on an amp just behind John, Colby and Jared.  
I quickly said my hellos and slinked further into my chair and pretended I wasn’t there while they all started to talk about the mixing process and the final details. I wasn’t sure if I’d be hearing the whole record from start to finish, but hey, I could dream.  
I’d certainly listened to their previous two albums, and they were both wonderful. So, in a way, the curious Maine fan in me was excited to be getting an early glimpse into their music, but at the same time, I had to be professional and not give away too much for legal and privacy reasons.  
Eventually, after most of the band had rotated around the room taking turns at the desk to tweak their individual instruments, John sighed and buried his face in his hands as he sat next to me on the sofa.  
“OK. I’m gonna explode if I don’t get some nicotine in me.”  
I sighed and kept jotting down my observations, like how John fidgets when he’s frustrated and desperate for a cigarette. He gets up from the sofa and nods at me.  
“What?” I ask.  
“You coming?”  
“I, uh...I don’t smoke.” I say smartly.  
“Not the point, Cassandra.”  
“Oh, so you’ve quit with the Mama Cass thing?” I hiss.  
“For now.”  
He winks and leaves the control room, and I’m frozen to the spot.  
“I’d go with him if I were you.” Colby says from the desk.  
“Why?”  
“Better to just do it than understand the reasoning with O’Callaghan.” he replies.  
Not wanting to argue, I grab my purse and my notebook, and race out of the studio to find John sitting under a tree in the parking lot.  
I saunter over and stand in front of him, my arms crossed and my purse dangling from my elbow.  
“Now what?” I ask.  
“Sit.” He says, squinting in the sun and pulling a silver zippo from his pocket.  
I sigh and sit down beside him, my legs crossed and my hands folded in my lap.  
John pulls a cigarette from its box and offers the box to me.  
“I don’t smoke.” I repeated.  
“You used to though, right?” He asks.  
Damn. I quit two years ago.  
“How in the fuck did you know that?” I snap, dropping my purse to the ground.  
“Lucky guess.” He slightly shook the box, the six or so cigarettes inside rolling around.  
What the hell. I’m not gonna reform a nicotine addiction with one smoke.  
I pull a smoke out of its container and place it between my lips as John lights his up and holds the Zippo in front of me.  
I take my first agonising gasp of tobacco smoke in at least two years, and fuck, it feels good.  
“You’re welcome.” John says, taking a deep drag.  
“Shut up.” I spit.  
“Why so bitchy?” he asks.  
I look over at him and look at him like he’s just asked me what colour the sky is.  
“You can’t be serious.” I rebutt.  
“Totally serious. I never pegged you as the petty type, Cass. High School is just that. It’s a tiny fraction of your life in the grand scheme of things.”  
“True.”  
“You remember what I wrote in your yearbook, don’t you?” He asks, leaning over slightly so our shoulders are touching.  
I take another drag on the cigarette, and try to remember what he wrote. I can remember him practically snatching my book from me, winking and telling me to stay away from sandwiches during my collegiate years.  
Then it hit me.

_Time heals all wounds, Mama Cass._

__

\- JCO’CV. xx

__


	7. Chapter 7

After my nicotine-infused heart-to-heart with John, we went back inside and continued with the mixing process, with one exception. When a particular track on the album started, John frantically made for the computer, and turned the song off, saying that he didn’t want to add anything else to it, and that it was perfect the way it was. Colby just looked at him like he’d sprouted an extra head, and Kennedy looked at me strangely, like he was hiding something.  
The boys had dragged me out to Alice Cooperstown, hands down the best place in Phoenix for tasty, unhealthy food.   
I was being boring and having a chicken salad with my beers, and the boys were all sharing the biggest Hot Dog I’ve ever laid eyes on.  
I was hoping and praying that the awkward incident in the studio wasn’t going to come up, mostly because it was none of my business, and also because John started getting really snappy and defensive from since it played until we left for the bar.  
But of course, karma was seriously fucking around with me this week so far, and Colby just had to open his mouth.   
“Are you sure you don’t want me to tweak track five, Johnno?” he asks, picking at his share of the hot dog.  
“No.” John said quickly, without looking up from his food.  
I quickly glance over at Kennedy, and I swear he looks like a teenage girl who’s desperate to spill the latest gossip.  
“Alright...” Colby replies, a small smirk appearing on his lips, “...I just thought the vocals were a little dull, that’s all.”  
John then looks up, a weird intensity in his eyes.  
“What now?” he says monotonously.  
I wish I had my voice recorder on. This is gold.  
“That got your attention, huh?” Colby says with a chuckle.  
I decide now is a good time to throw myself into the conversation.  
“What’s so special about that track?” I ask, preparing to dig my recorder out of my bag.  
“Nothing special...I just don’t think it needs work.”  
I look back over at Kennedy, who’s on the verge of breaking.   
“Touchy subject matter then?” I tease.  
“I suppose.” John replies politely.  
“Well, I’ll find out soon enough, I guess.”   
John then looks up at me with narrowed eyes.  
“What do you mean?”  
“Uhh...you’re playing the whole album on Friday night, aren’t you?”  
John closes his eyes and inhales sharply.  
“Fuck.”  
Ha. Gotcha.   
“So that’s a yes?” I push.  
John just nods and resumes eating.   
The horrendously awkward silence is thankfully broken by my phone ringing. I quickly excuse myself and grab it out of my pocket, thrilled to see that my beloved Harry was finally calling me.  
I left the bar and stepped out into the warm night air, and answer my phone excitedly.  
“Prince Harry!” I say happily.  
 _“Hey, pretty lady! How’s it going down in the motherland?”_  
I sigh and look back through the window. The guys look like they’re all laughing their heads off, and I grimace to myself.  
“Oh, peachy.” I lie quickly.  
 _“Bullshit, Cass. How is it really?”_  
What can I say? He knows me well.  
“It’s fine. Just fine.”  
 _“Is he being king jerk again?”_  
“Uhh, no. Not really. He’s...mellowed. Which is weird.”  
 _“Damn right. Still sex on legs?”_  
“Harry!”  
 _“Hey, I’m entitled to my opinion. He may be a douche, but it doesn’t hurt to look.”_  
I sigh and resign myself to the hopeless attraction I have for him.  
“He’s gorgeous. And it sickens me.”  
 _“That’s my girl.”_  
“Fuck my life.”  
 _“Settle down, Emo kid...”_ Harry says, chuckling.  
I’m interrupted by John coming outside with me, and standing with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, staying silent and obviously waiting for me to hang up.  
“Uh, Harry?” I say, smiling at him.  
 _“Yeah, doll?”_  
“Can I call you back later? I have a very nervous boy standing in front of me.”  
 _“Is he hot?”_  
“No comment. I’ll call you later.”  
 _“You suck. Bye, Cass.”_  
“Bye.”  
I hang up and shove my phone back into my pocket without taking my eyes off John.  
“Everything alright?” I ask.  
He nods and steps a little closer to me, a weird look on his face.  
“I just want to apologise for that little tantrum back there.”  
“That was a tantrum?”  
“Yeah. I, uh...that song? The mystery one?”  
I nod, smiling.  
“I don’t want you to hear it yet. I don’t want to piss you off.”  
I narrow my eyes. “How would it piss me off?”  
“I wrote it about someone at School. Can’t have you jumping to conclusions and blabbing details about the song in your article.”  
I felt my stomach go cold.  
Maybe it was her. Katie.  
The closest thing I had at school to an arch-nemesis. She made mine and Harry’s lives a living hell, and of course, she dated John. He adored her, and it really got to me.  
“No problem. You’re entitled to privacy like everyone else.”  
John smiled again.  
“I just want you to hear it when everyone else does. OK?”  
I nod, and force a smile that I pray came off as genuine.


	8. Chapter 8

**Day 3 - “Help! I need an adult!”**

I woke up the next morning to the phone in my hotel room ringing. It was early, and the last thing I wanted was to be awake.   
I groaned loudly, too tired to realise that nobody was around to hear my complaint.  
Reaching over with a partially asleep arm, I grabbed the phone and held it up to my face.  
“What?” I sputtered into the phone.  
 _“Uh...sorry to disturb you, Miss Forrester...but you have a visitor here at the front desk.”_  
Who in the royal fuck...  
Ugh. John.  
“Tall, skinny, dark blonde, has tattoos across his chest?” I croak.  
 _“Yes ma’am.”_  
“Thank you. Can you tell him I’ll be down in ten minutes?”  
 _“Just a second.”_  
Silence.  
 _“Is it alright if he came up to your room?”_  
I sighed. Guess there wasn’t really much point in arguing.  
“Sure thing. “  
The line went dead, and I hung up. Frustrated, I flailed my legs around, churning up the bedsheets.  
The alarm clock beside my bed read 9:14am. The Maine obviously like to start their days off early.  
I got up out of bed, threw my hair into a ponytail and was just about to get changed before the ominous knock on the door came.  
Clearly not registering that John was on the other side of the door (and only wearing my panties and a loose t-shirt), I slumped over and opened it. John stood before me, holding a tray of two coffees and I watched as his eyes widened.  
Fuck.  
“Well, good morning to you too....” he said seductively.  
“Jesus christ...” I muttered, grabbing my sweatpants off the floor and hiding behind the door to slip them on.  
John came inside and looked around just as I was doing up the drawstring, a horribly charming smirk on his face.  
“Why on earth are you up this early?” I ask, stepping back over to my bed and flopping down face-first on it.  
“Big day ahead, Cass...gotta get a jump on it.”  
“It’s your day off, John...no plans needed to be made.”  
I feel his weight appear on the bed, and I turn my head around to face him.  
“Why not?”  
“Because you should be relaxing. You won’t get a chance to after the record comes out.”  
John just smirked and grabbed one of the coffee cups, holding it out in front of me.  
“That’s what you think.”  
I sat up and took the cup from him, taking the lid off and inspecting it.  
“Cappuccino with a vanilla shot.” John explained.  
Interesting.  
“Thanks.” I said.  
“You’re welcome.”   
I took an enthusiastic gulp of the coffee, sighing quietly to myself. Hot caffeine first thing in the morning was always appreciated by me, no matter who brings it.  
“So where are we going that merits a pre-10am wakeup call?” I ask.  
“Out to Jared’s Cabin...just to get away for a bit.”  
Ohh, the cabin.   
Now I was excited.  
“Sounds good to me.”  
“Always a good time out in the middle of nowhere. You gonna get dressed?” he asked.  
“Not while you’re in here watching me...”  
“That’s what bathrooms are for, Cass.”  
“So I have to retreat into the bathoom in my own hotel room?”  
“Unless you want me to see the goods.”  
I scoff and get up, sitting the coffee on the nightstand and heading to my suitcase, pulling out an appropriate ensemble for the day and heading into the bathroom. I deliberately leave the door ajar, a silly fragment of my imagination hoping he’ll watch me change.   
I slip my shirt off, my bare back facing John in the other room.   
“So how drunk are you planning on getting tonight, anyway?” I asked, yanking on a bra and a loose black tank top.  
Silence.  
I look over my shoulder, and John’s playing with his phone.  
Damn.   
A little mad, I shut the door the rest of the way, and change into my denim shorts. After slicking on a bit of makeup, I leave the bathroom and start gathering my things and slipping my black flip-flops on in silence, John still sitting on my bed fidgeting with his phone.  
“Shall we?” I ask, grabbing my key card for the hotel room and shoving it into my purse, along with an emergency change of clothes.  
“Indeed.” John says, getting up and heading for the door.


	9. Chapter 9

The drive out to ‘Monaco’s Manor’ was...weird. Everyone else on the bus were looking at John and I strangely, like there was something going on between the two of us that we didn’t know.  
John occasionally looked over at me with a shrug, and all I could do was give him an equally clueless expression and shrug right back.  
So when we got off the bus, I casually pulled him aside, while the others started carrying the beer and Musical equipment inside.  
John escorted me around to the other side of the van, his hand on the small of my back. It sent weirdly uncomfortable tingles right up my spine, and I had no idea why or what to do about it.  
“What’s up?” he asks, digging in the pocket of his vest for cigarettes and a lighter.  
“What do you mean, what’s up?” I hiss back, taking a smoke out of the box when he offers it to me.  
“So you noticed too.” he replies, lighting up and holding the lighter in front of me.  
I light my cigarette and gratefully take a deep breath in, sighing when I blow the smoke out of my lungs.  
“Well, yeah. You could cut the awkwardness in there with a straw or something.”  
“Maybe it’s because you’re a chick.” John replies with a shrug and a puff of smoke.  
I raise my eyebrows.  
“You seriously haven’t had girls on that bus before?”  
John leans in closer to me and lowers his voice.  
“Not while we were driving.” he says with a smirk.  
I just pull a disgusted face and take another drag.  
“Gross.” I say quickly.  
John just chuckles and brushes past me, headed back towards the Manor.   
I follow, sucking on my cigarette and hiking my bag back up onto my shoulder.  
He stops to duck back into the bus for his bag and guitar, and I just follow the other guys inside after stomping out my cigarette on the curb.  
It’s a beautiful, white weatherboard cabin, with a wraparound porch and double garage.  
I flop down on a Sofa in the living room, and pull out my notebook, preparing to furiously scribble anything I notice.  
For the next twenty minutes, the boys all file in and claim their respective passout spots for the evening, get out their instruments and quietly strum some melodies and beats while we all talk.  
John doesn’t wait very long to crack the beers open, and as he hands one to me, he winks and tells me it should be a good day.


	10. Chapter 10

It’s six o’clock in the evening.

There’s a good chance I’m drunk, but I can’t quite tell. John kept handing me beers when he noticed that the one I was nursing was growing empty, and I was having too much fun just hanging out that I didn’t want to turn them away.  
The boys are currently discussing a drunken road trip to Texas to go hang out at the El Paso Ranch, where they recorded the album, and calling the guy they messed around with guns with.  
I stupidly mention that they probably shouldn’t mess around with firearms with more beer in their systems than blood, and that just made them more determined. John actually pulls out his phone to call Mike, and all my sober thoughts are immediately pushed out of my head.  
I put my beer down on the coffee table and launch myself at John, collapsing on top of him and swiping at him in an attempt to get his phone away from me.  
“Help, I need an adult!” John yells, as I climb all over him, laughing and eventually managing to get his phone off him, slipping it into my bra as the ultimate confiscation.  
John just stops and looks at me like I’ve just murdered someone in front of him.  
“Not cool, Mama Cass. I’ll go in there and fish my phone out if I have to.”  
I just laugh and pat his cheek.  
“Not until you stop getting all trigger-happy, O’Callaghan.” I say sweetly, hopping off him and clumsily falling back onto my spot on the sofa.  
I’ve totally and completely forgotten about the article I’m supposed to be writing.  
Kenny’s doubled over where he’s sitting, laughing his head off and sloshing beer on the floor.  
John’s still looking at me strangely.   
I pull his phone out and hold it up in front of me, eyebrows raised and a smirk on my face.   
“Cigarette break.” he says suddenly, getting up and heading to the front door.  
Confused, I look over at Pat, who just shrugs at me.  
“Better go give him his phone back, Cass.” he says with a smile.  
I roll my eyes and get up, pocketing his phone and grabbing my beer.  
I head out to the porch and find John sitting on the front stairs, smoking away and staring out to space.  
Sitting down next to him, I take his phone out of my pocket and sit it on the step between us.  
“What’s up, grumpy?” I ask.  
John looks over at me and frowns.  
“Why your bra?” he asks.  
“Excuse me?”  
“You could have put my phone anywhere.”  
“It’s the first place I put anything that’ll fit. Girl laws.”  
John swivels around to face me, flicks his cigarette into the garden and sits a hand on my knee. I feel myself flinch, but I resist the urge to pull away.  
“You’re giving me serious mixed signals, Cass. And it’s driving me nuts.” he says quietly.  
My stomach lurches uncomfortably.  
“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask stupidly.  
“This morning, I know you deliberately left the door opened while you were getting changed...and now, you’re just acting like I’m your brother or something.”  
I swallow hard. He did watch me change.  
“Well, what do you want me to act like? You made my life a living hell when we were younger. I had such a huge fucking crush on you...and you were the one acting like the jerk.”  
John raises his eyebrows.  
“You liked me?” he asks.  
I sigh and stand up, cross my arms and step off the porch. I start to pace, feeling really confused and embarrassed.  
“Of course I did. I thought you were interesting...and, and...nice. When you were alone, at least. That little group you hung out with...I fucking hated them.”  
“Katie too?” he asks suddenly. I turn around to face him, and my eyes start tingling.  
“Of course I hated her. She had you wrapped around her little finger. What was I supposed to think?”  
John stands up and comes over to me, taking my elbows and pulling my arms apart. He drags his hands down my forearms and takes my hands, like a boy at his first dance who has no idea what to do with his date.  
“What did you think?” he asks quietly.  
I sigh and look down at our clasped hands.   
I definitely don’t feel so drunk any more.  
“I thought...why would he want me when he has her?”  
“Cassie...look at me.”   
I did as I was told, and I look him straight in the eye.  
“I only had her because she was there, and wouldn’t leave me alone. She was my first proper girlfriend...and she had this insane plan for us that I told her I wanted, but I didn’t. Not even close.”  
I swallow hard, not sure if it was panic or pride that I was getting rid of.  
“Let me guess...you wanted me instead.” I chuckle, not expecting anything much else beside a laugh from him too.  
John nods, and I feel my insides freeze over.  
“I did want you. Mainly because you were the only person who treated me just like another friend...and not some cool guy who wrote poetry and played the guitar and dated the popular girls.”  
“Settling for the fat girl, huh?” I ask quietly.  
John just sighs and lets go of my hands, pulling me into a hug.  
“You’ve always been beautiful to me, Cass. You have to understand that.” I hear him whisper.  
I wasn’t entirely sure I did.   
He was always the guy at the back of my mind, the guy who wouldn’t look at me twice unless we were alone, the one who called me Mama Cass and wrote oddly cryptic things in my yearbook.  
And now here we were, holding each other close, like we’ve been in love for years, and are only just realising. My heart starts pounding in my chest, and I have to do something to show him how I feel, without spewing meaningless word vomit everywhere.  
I carefully pull myself out of his arms and I quickly lean in, closing my eyes and kissing his perfect lips for a few seconds, without moving or breathing.  
Just as quickly, I pull away completely, and I jog back to the steps of the cabin, grabbing my beer and going inside, my face flushing red hot with embarrassment and pure, unadulterated terror.


	11. Chapter 11

**Day 4 - “Pancakes?!”**

The first thing I did the morning after the previous evening’s drunken failings was get up off the couch I’d passed out on, go into the kitchen and attempt to make myself the largest, strongest coffee I could, where I found an unfairly awake and chipper Garrett.  
“Sleep well?” he asked as I flopped down at the kitchen table and rested my forehead on the top of it.  
“Coffee, Garrett. No talk til coffee.” I mumbled.  
It had to be a minor miracle for me not to throw up after last night’s efforts. All I could remember doing was talking to, and then, for some stupid reason, kissing John, and retreating into the house, asking Jared where he kept the Scotch. The hours following those two simple actions were a blur of laughter, awkward silences and not a single word was spoken between John and I.  
Garrett happily considered my predicament, and before I knew it, he had made me a strong black coffee with two sugars, and sat it down on the table next to my head.  
“Thank you, Mr. Nickelsen.” I muttered.  
“You’re welcome, Miss Forrester. I must say you’re very proper when you’re close to death.”  
“Not as close I’d like to be...” I said, reluctantly straightening myself up and running my hands through my hair.  
I hear the shuffling of footsteps behind me, but I’m too seedy to look over my shoulder.  
“Cass? Can I talk to you?” John’s voice says.  
I groan loudly and reluctantly get up from my chair, grabbing the coffee and following John out onto the porch again.  
He sat down where he was last night, and lit a cigarette.  
I remained standing, fearing that if I sat, I mightn’t get up again without puking or passing out.  
We stayed quiet for a few minutes, the only sounds emanating from either of us being the quiet sipping of my coffee and John’s smoky exhalations.  
Feeling the caffeine buzz slowly seep into my blood, I bit the bullet and sat down beside John, nursing my mug and nervously running my finger around the lip of the cup.  
“You used to do that at school, y’know.” John says quietly from beside me.  
I look over at him and smile a little.  
“Do what?”  
John nodded at my coffee.  
“When you got nervous...you’d always fidget with cups, bottles...whatever you had in your hands.”  
He was right. It was one of those weird habits I couldn’t kick. Kept my brain ticking when I was trapped in an awkward position.  
“I was only nervous around you.” I concede.  
John looks over at me, and flicks his cigarette away without taking his eyes off me. I see his gaze momentarily flicker down to my lips, and I knew what was coming.  
Still with a small smile on my face, I leaned over a little, a few inches away from bliss.  
“Hey guys, I...”  
Gare’s voice pierces the silence and I straighten up almost immediately, a cold burst of panic now settling into my stomach.  
I see John do the same, and run a hand through his hair.  
“Sorry...I, uh...just wanted to know if you guys want chocolate chips in the pancakes. Pat’s trying to overrule me.”  
John gets up and I follow, watching as he brushes right past Garrett and goes inside.  
I stop next to Gare and finish off my coffee.  
“What’s his problem?” he asks, crossing his arms.  
I just shrug.  
“I was hoping you could tell me.”  
Gare narrows his eyes at me, and I pull a surprised face.  
“What?” I ask.  
“He’s only been like this since you’ve been around.”  
Now it’s my turn to narrow my eyes.  
“So he’s not a surly pain in the ass all the time?”  
“Nope. You’ve done something to him, and I’m not sure I like it.”  
I sigh and open the front door.  
“I’m outta here in two days, Garrett. After that, he’s all yours.”  
And he would be.   
I wasn’t in too deep. Not yet, at least.


	12. Chapter 12

_“Watching a photoshoot alone is one of the more boring things a journalist of my calibre has to endure. But today, it’s different. I’ve found myself becoming more and more attached to the project, and, if I may, the band themselves.  
They’re more than a band, I’ve come to realise. They’re a perfectly functioning machine, with every person they encounter and seem to know fulfilling a specific role, and somehow fitting in perfectly.   
I’m not sure what my role is yet. I’ve managed to befriend these fine gentlemen, but I still feel like an outsider, looking in on their world and taking notes.  
And so here I am.   
I’m sitting on a rickety deck chair, watching Dirk Mai, another fine artist and friend, take photos for the Pioneer press that no doubt will be flying around in the next few days.  
Normally, I’d be bored stiff...but there’s an electricity in the air. It’s anticipation and excitement.  
And I’m getting drunk off it.” ___

__I close my notebook and squint into the sunshine that’s drowning my surroundings. We were about ten miles away from Monaco’s Manor, in the town centre of Middle-of-Nowhere, Arizona.  
John had been quiet at Breakfast, and Pat had won the Pancake battle, Kenny making us all chocolate-free pancakes. I was feeling so weird and down after what almost happened on the porch, so as I got freshened up and changed for the shoot, in my ex-boyfriend’s way-too-big-for-me Black Flag T-shirt and my lucky red shorts, I didn’t even know what I’d say to John if it came up in conversation.  
The boys are all standing in a ditch beside the road, laughing and talking...and Dirk was taking snap after snap, capturing the candid moments as well as the posed ones.  
Dirk then stops, and waves me over.   
I smile and get up out of the chair with some difficulty, leaving my notebook behind and going over to the guys.  
“How can I help you, Mr. Mai?” I ask happily, not paying any attention to John.  
“You want me to take some shots for your article? I can email them to Jeremy tonight...one less thing to do later on.”  
I raise my eyebrows. Why didn’t I think of that?  
“That sounds like an awesome idea to me.” I say chipperly.  
Dirk grins and looks over his shoulder, waving a blonde stick figure over, who was chatting to someone else on Dirk’s team.  
“You need makeup?” he asked, the blonde coming over and smiling at me.  
I smirk at him.  
“Do you think I need makeup?” I ask. There was no right way to answer that question.  
Dirk just smirked right back and looked at the blonde, who shrugged.  
I sigh and smile at the blonde.  
“I actually wouldn’t mind a professional touch-up.”  
The blonde just laughed and held her hand out.  
“Good answer. I’m Michelle.”  
I shook her hand and felt a weird sense of camaraderie with her already. Maybe it was because she was the only other girl within twenty square miles...I dunno.  
I let go of her hand and found myself whisked away by Michelle, who hastily but perfectly pressed-powdered my face, put some deep red lipstick on me, and slicked on some dark liquid eyeliner.  
“All done. Classic pin-up look never goes out of style, if you ask me.” She said sweetly.   
“Thank you!” I find myself gushing, looking at my reflection in a small mirror she handed me.  
Damn. John isn’t gonna recognise me.  
I get up from the makeshift makeup center, and head back over to the boys, where Dirk now has them sitting in the long grass near the road.  
“Hot tamale coming through!” Michelle yells.  
Dirk turns around and raises his eyebrows.   
“Wow.” he says. I see the band all peeking through the grass at me, and I feel the heat rise into my cheeks.  
John looks like he’s just seen every female on earth take their bras off at once. Kenny wolf-whistles at me. Gare and Jared are just grinning, and Pat turns away, brushing his hair out of his face, all cute and embarrassed.  
“Alright, alright...it’s just makeup. Can we get this over with?”  
Dirk laughs and waves me into the long grass. I carefully step over to the band, suddenly terrified about standing on the wrong end of a snake or something.  
“Group together a little more?” Dirk directs.  
The boys all stand up and close in, and arms are slumped over shoulders. I’m standing next to John, and I feel his arm snake around my waist.   
I immediately look up at him as the flash goes off, and already I know I’ve screwed the shoot up.  
“Sorry. Wasn’t looking.” I say, flashing my best smile and looking directly into the camera as another flash lit us up.  
“John...you weren’t looking that time.” Dirk says, his face hidden.  
“Shit, sorry.” he mumbles.  
I’m still staring at Dirk and smiling as much as I can, a mixture of horrible cheesy grins and subtle smiles. The flash goes off over and over again, and I’m beginning to see spots.  
“Alright...pull the most unattractive faces you can.”  
We all laugh, and I try to think.  
I cross my eyes with difficulty and stick my tongue out as the flash goes off again, and Dirk chuckles.  
“Jesus christ, that’s terrifying.” he says.  
John’s hand is still firmly attached to my waist, and his fingertips are gently digging into my skin.  
I choose to ignore it for now, but just knowing it was there...I dunno. It made me feel strange.  
Like I’d been claimed.  
And it was kinda nice. I’d had weird daydreams about being ‘all John’s’ when I was younger, and now that there was a chance it might actually happen...it was just strange.  
“Alright...you wanna move over to the curb?” Dirk asks, grabbing his tripod and stepping out into the middle of the road.  
We all unravelled ourselves and did as we were told. Dirk asked the boys to sit down in a line, and me a little further away, with a gap in between the last guy in the line.  
Then he asked me to stretch my legs out and pretend to look at my nails while the guys all looked over at me longingly.  
I had to hold it together as best I could without laughing, as the guys were all muttering things like ‘Pick me, Cass...I play Bass’ or ‘I’ll always hold your hair back when you puke’ and ‘I make really good pancakes’.  
When Dirk said he was finished, we all just lost our shit, laughing our heads off and almost rolling off the curb and into the grass.  
“Pancakes?!” John asked.  
“What else was I supposed to say?” Kenny replies.  
“Alright, I have one more idea.” Dirk says loudly, “I want everyone to stand in the middle of the road, John and Cassie in front.”  
We all nod and do as we’re told, standing where we’re directed; John and I in front of the others, a gap behind us so everyone was in the shot.  
Dirk sat his tripod in front of us, and focused in.  
“OK. John, can you kiss Cass on the cheek?”  
I felt my stomach turn cold.   
This wasn’t good.  
“Sure thing. You OK with that, Cass?” he asks sweetly. I just smile and nod.  
“Awesome. Cass, you’re gonna bite your lip and look over to my right for me, and Pat, Gare, Kenny, Jared...you guys have to look absolutely furious because John’s stealing your girl.”  
I hear them all laugh from behind me, and it’s not helping my current state of pure terror.  
“Stupid lead singer always gets the girls...” I hear Gare complain from behind me in a small voice.  
“Shut up, Garrett...” John replies with a chuckle.  
Now I can feel my heart starting to thud uncomfortably in my chest.   
“Ready?” Dirk asks, stepping behind his camera.  
I nod, and take a deep breath in before biting my lip and looking off into the distance as instructed.  
“And, 3..2..1...” Dirk says. I feel John’s lips connect with my cheek, and I can’t even describe the feeling that started coursing through every nerve in my body.  
The flash goes off a few times, and I hear Dirk laugh, most likely at the boys in the back.  
“And we’re done. Great stuff.”  
John pulls away, and a warm patch of bliss still lingered on my cheek. I want to touch my face and blush like they do in the movies, but I feel like I’m getting closer and closer to being ‘in too deep’.   
Tomorrow can’t come soon enough._ _


	13. Chapter 13

**Day 5 - “This is for an old friend.”**

I woke up in the hotel on the last day of my journey with a horrible pit in my stomach. I had to do something more with John than being supremely weird and not giving him any indication that I didn’t want to be with him for a very long time, if not the rest of my life.  
Yeah, I know...that sounds like a pipedream, but either way, I’d get what I wanted.  
If he liked me back as much as I liked him, so be it.  
If not, I’d go back to Cleveland with my head held high and a cool story for Harry.   
So be it.  
I roll over onto my back and stare at the ceiling. I’d had a strange dream about John, the two of us out in the middle of nowhere, like yesterday, just standing in the middle of the road, while a huge thunderstorm roared around us. We just stood there, staring at each other with small smiles on our faces.  
I flop over and grab my phone, and immediately groan when I realise it’s only 7:45am. I’m way too buzzed and nervous to go back to sleep, so I get up and decide to take advantage of my decadent situation and browse the room service menu.   
What the hell, I’m technically on the clock, and AP was paying for it...  
Getting all giddy and excited all of a sudden, I decide on food and call in my order before settling down on the sofa in front of the TV, the early Arizona sun starting to seep in through my window.  
And that’s how I stayed until at least 10:30am, hoovering up my Eggs Benedict like I hadn’t eaten properly in months, watching bad TV in my underwear and Black Flag T-Shirt (the guy delivering my breakfast definitely had an interesting look on his face when I opened the door in this get-up).  
After a shower and a change of clothes, I was finally on my way back to the Marquee, which was decked out in Pioneer Propaganda. The temporary barriers outside the place were covered in banners of a man’s face, wearing red lipstick visible under the most magnificent beard I’d ever seen, and posters in the window reading ‘SOLD OUT’.  
That made me happy. They were all such nice, talented human beings...and I’d always been a fan of their music...just not in a crazy, fangirly way. I knew John personally, and I really didn’t want to be that girl who brags to all her friends that she knows a rock star.  
I go up to the front doors and knock, assuming they’re locked.   
Tim comes jogging up to me from the dark depths, and grins when he sees me, opening the door.  
“Good morning!” he says happily.  
“Wow, Timothy...someone’s given you caffiene already, huh?” I ask, stepping through the door and smiling.  
Tim sighs and locks the door behind me, leading me through to the floor.  
“No caffeine, girl. Just pure excitement. It’s gonna be an amazing day, lemme tell you.”  
I continue smiling and follow him out into the large, open theatre itself, and I come face to face with a flurry of activity. Doors weren’t opening for at least seven hours, and yet here everyone was, rushing around with lights, amps, cords, and right in the middle, Pat’s drum kit, with the word ‘Pioneer’ taped to the front of the kick drum awkwardly in white electrical tape.  
I decide to spend the time before the band showed up by slipping into a back room and getting some work done, emailing Jeremy and typing up my notes and editing them until they started to make sense. Dirk had sent me a few shots from the previous day’s photography session, and I had to admit that I looked pretty cool with the guys. The shot of the boys looking at me like I was a supermodel made me crack up, and the photo of John kissing my cheek just made me blush and gave me extreme butterflies. I email Dirk back, gushing about how brilliant he is and how much fun I had on the shoot, a grin plastered on my face.   
I then spent an hour or so dictating my notes, feeling ashamed of how lazy I’d been during the week. I left out the interesting conversations I’d had with John about what was going on between us, and instead filled the void with some history about the band I’d been told by Tim and Gare.  
Eventually, I heard a knock on the door of the grimy back office I was holed up in, and I turn around to find John standing in the door frame, dressed in a white dress shirt, red and black striped suspenders and jeans. I smile and wave him in.  
“Morning, sunshine...” I say as he comes in and sits down next to me at the table.  
“Is it still morning?” he asks, and I just nod.   
“You alright?” I ask.  
John shrugs, and turns himself and his chair around to face me.  
I close my laptop and maneuver in my chair so I’m facing him properly and I just frown, a little worried.  
“What’s up?” I say quietly.  
John just looks up at me, staring at me so hard I imagine his gaze totally going straight through my head and projecting his thoughts onto the wall behind me.  
“Dirk sent me a couple of photos from yesterday.” he replied.  
I nod and smile at him, “Yeah, I got them too.”  
“And, uh...what do you think?”  
“They’re great! He did an awesome job.”  
John then pulls a face and straightens his back up a little.  
“That’s it?” he asks.  
I cock my head to the side, a little confused.  
“Uhh, yeah.”  
John scoffs and gets up from his chair, heading for the door of my temporary office.  
“Woah...” I start, getting up too and following him, “...did I say something wrong?”  
John doesn’t turn around, and calls out just as he leaves the room.  
“Doesn’t matter. See you later.”  
I just raise my eyebrows and stick my head out the door and watch him storm off.   
What in the hell was that?


	14. Chapter 14

The next few hours were a haze of preparations, phone calls and frantic sprints back and forth from the Bus to the main room. I’d been roped into minor roadie duties when I finally got my work done, carrying boxes and helping with the basics.  
I’d also ducked out and managed to get a few statements from the crowd, who had started showing up at 3pm. That was amazing...they were willing to wait for four hours just to get in and see the show. Most of them already had their copies of Pioneer, and a few girls up the front were blasting the new record from their phones and singing along while they waited, already knowing most of the words. That was even more amazing.  
So by the time the show started, I was almost shaking with excitement. This was my first launch gig, and the anticipation of the new tracks was making me giddy. I was kinda curious about the mysterious track five, but I was just gonna have to wait.  
I had been invited to watch the show from side of stage, but I politely declined, instead opting to stand in the crowd with the rest of the fans. Gare mentioned that my AAA pass could get me onto the stage anyway, if my legs got tired, or I just changed my mind.  
That might be an idea if the guys in the crowd decided to give me attitude.  
The support act for the evening was Tim, addressing the crowd and blurting out an appreciative and sincere speech, thanking them for their love and enthusiasm. I made sure to quickly scribble down a few lines for my article, smiling the whole time. When Tim left the stage, and the house lights went down, the screaming from the audience was deafening. That was my favourite part of any gig. The bated-breath excitement, just before the band comes out. It makes my heart skip a beat every time.  
I’d been counting the songs, grinning so hard my cheeks hurt, and bopping around...until there was a lull.  
The lights went down a little, and John ran his hand through his hair and cleared his throat as he stepped up to the Mic.  
“You guys having a good time?” he asked, only to be answered by more screaming and clapping.  
“Awesome.”  
He looked around to the back of him at Pat, who just nodded at him and started playing a slow fill.  
I had a feeling this one was gonna be slow...then it hit me.  
We were at song number five.  
I sharply drew my breath in, and waited for John to speak again, if he was going to.  
“Uhh, this next one...I’m kinda nervous about it.” He paused and chuckled, a few girls screaming out things like ‘I love you, John!’.  
John stared out into the crowd and scanned it with his gaze, until he met my terrified eyes.  
“This one’s for an old friend.”  
I let out my breath, and then it hit me. It was about me. Not Katie.  
Shit.  
John counted it in, and then it started. Jared had a nice, bluesy riff, and then John sang.

_“I'm fucked up again...I shouldn't drive tonight, but I keep thinking of you.  
I hurt you again...I shouldn't lie tonight, so the next few words are true. _

_Never again, never again, no, will I leave you high and..._   
_Never again, never again, no..._   
_Never again, never again, no, will I leave you high and dry,_   
_This time, I more than mean it...”_

My heart was now throbbing so uncomfortably in my chest that I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

_“I'm sorry, I'm not what you wanted...I'm sorry, I'm sorry I let you down._   
_I could use some poor excuse.... 'cause the hardest thing to say..._   
_Oh, it's the hardest thing to say in the world;_   
_I'm sorry.”_

I shifted my weight nervously as he sang, his eyes now off me and closed. I was sure that by now my heart had started vibrating in my chest, rather than pulsing like any normal human beings’.  
It only got worse with the second verse, the lyrics ringing in my head like John was speaking them in a normal conversation.

_“Yeah I'm messed up again._  
 _Thinking about the times I was lost and you let me in..._  
 _And I'm only human...both you and I, we know, the way that his will end.”_

That’s it, I thought.  
Wrenching my feet from the floor like they’d been stuck down with glue, I made my way out of the dense crowd and over to the barrier on the left hand side of the stage, flashing my pass at the burly security guard and gracefully hopping over the metal fence and up the stairs alongside the stage.  
By now the bridge and the chorus was being repeated by John, the crowd singing along.  
I was in a cold sweat by now, stopping just at side of stage, on the verge of hyperventilating and resisting the temptation to just run onto the stage and tackling John to the ground and kissing him with everything I had.  
He turned around to face me, just as the last line of the song echoed through the building.  
“I’m sorry.” he said.  
I sighed and wiped at my face, tears I didn’t know were forming starting to trickle down my cheeks.  
And that’s where I stood, frozen completely to the spot, for the rest of the set.  
I didn’t pay attention to the music, like I should have been doing.  
I didn’t pay attention to anything but John.  
So when the house lights finally came back on after the encore (a few fan favourites from their previous two albums), I tried moving my legs when John came over to me, but I couldn’t.  
I had been standing there for a good forty-five minutes with my arms crossed, and it was like I was made of stone.  
John stopped in front of me; sweaty, shirtless and exhausted, and he just smiled softly.  
“What did you think?” he asked loudly, over the chant of ‘one more song! one more song!’ from the crowd.  
I just licked my lips and nodded at him.  
“It was OK.” I lied.  
John narrowed his eyes and gave me a puzzled look.  
“Just OK?”  
I sniff back a tear or two again and take a step back as a roadie rushed past with Gare’s Bass Guitar.  
“Well, yeah...after your little storm-off before...I’m confused, O’Callaghan...”  
John cursed under his breath, and quickly looked over his shoulder before holding a hand out.  
“C’mon...I’ll explain when there aren’t people screaming at me...”  
I unravel my arms and take his hand, his fingers expertly slipping in between mine as he yanked me from my spot.  
He rushes me off to the back of the venue, out near the trucks.  
I’m still reeling from the song, and I can’t get the words out of my head as John grabs his phone from his pocket. How he managed to keep it intact is beyond me.  
He starts looking through it, still squeezing my hand.  
“Dirk...called me earlier. Said he, uh...sent you different photos.”  
I narrow my eyes at him.  
“Different ones?” I ask.  
John nods, and hands me his phone.  
In front of me, is a gorgeous black and white photo, an outtake. John and the band are looking directly at the camera, smiling.  
I’m staring at John, smiling.  
I feel the blood rush into my cheeks, a little embarrassed for about the millionth time this week.  
“Oh.” I say in a small voice.  
John gives my hand a squeeze again.  
“Look at the next one, Cass.” he says.  
I do as I’m told, and scroll to the next photo.  
It’s identical to the first, with one difference.  
I’m looking at the camera, same as the guys...and John’s staring at me.  
Sniffing again, I look up at John, and hand his phone back, not taking my eyes off his.  
“They’re awesome shots.” I say stupidly.  
John just smirks.  
“That’s it?” he repeats, this time with a slight sarcastic edge to it.  
I just shrug, unable to think of what on earth I could possibly do next in this situation.  
“So, uh...that song wasn’t about Katie.” I blurt, breaking the awkward silence.  
John shakes his head.  
“Nope. All you...and I meant every word.”  
“When did you write it?”  
“Few years ago, when I saw an article of yours in AP.”  
I just nod, coming to terms with this. He had been thinking about me...so much so that he felt it necessary to write a fucking song for me.  
“John...?” I ask.  
“Yeah?”  
I narrow my eyes again, fearing a negative backlash from what I was about to say.  
“Can I kiss you now?” I ask in a whisper.  
John grins and lets out a chuckle.  
“Not before I kiss you, Cass.”  
And just like that, he let go of my hand, swiftly cupping my face with his hands and leaning down.  
Our lips collided, and in that one split second, I felt like everything was totally right with the world.  
All the confusion, bickering and pent-up frustration was gone.  
The only thing ahead of me now was John, and nothing could spoil that for me right now.


End file.
